


slow dancing in a burning room

by kiminsocks



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Break Up, Heartbreak, M/M, Not a Happy Story, Steve Needs a Hug, Tony Needs a Hug, they just couldn't stop arguing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiminsocks/pseuds/kiminsocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes love isn't enough.</p><p>  <i> Steve is usually up hours before him, so it’s no surprise. Tony remembers how he used to leave little notes, “Going for a run, Love you, Steve,” and “Don’t you move, I’m bringing breakfast to you ;),” and “You look beautiful. I love you.”</i></p><p>  <i>He’s not even sure if Steve came to bed last night. It wouldn’t be the first time. They used to make it a point to sleep in the same bed, no matter how busy Tony is in the shop, or how much paperwork Steve has to fill out after a mission. It doesn’t seem so important now. </i></p><p>  <i>It’s been a long time since Steve left a note for him. Tony doesn’t blame him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	slow dancing in a burning room

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't read the tags, this isn't a happy fic, and it doesn't really have a happy ending. Sorry for that.
> 
> Wrote this in one go, had the idea and just went with it. If things don't flow or you see errors, that would be why, just had to get it out of my head. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Title from John Mayer's song, Slow Dancing In A Burning Room. Obviously not mine. Listen to it if you want your heart broken. Worked well for this fic.

He wakes up slowly, senses gradually relaying signals to his sleep-hazy brain. He’s warm, but when he shifts his legs to stretch them out his feet brush across cool blankets. The room is quiet, just the sounds of the air conditioner running and the barely there hum of electronics. There’s a dull rumble of thunder in the distance promising shitty weather for the day, and it kind of fits the mood.

Tony rolls over, expecting to see an empty bed. He’s not wrong. He lets out a slow breath, lets his hand fall to the cool pillow on the bed next to him. Steve is usually up hours before him, so it’s no surprise. Tony remembers how he used to leave little notes, _“Going for a run, Love you, Steve”_ , and _“Don’t you move, I’m bringing breakfast to you ;)”_ , and _“You look beautiful. I love you.”_

He’s not even sure if Steve came to bed last night. It wouldn’t be the first time. They used to make it a point to sleep in the same bed, no matter how busy Tony is in the shop, or how much paperwork Steve has to fill out after a mission. It doesn’t seem so important now. 

It’s been a long time since Steve left a note for him. Tony doesn’t blame him.

***

The handle nearly cracks off of the coffee mug when Tony throws it carelessly into the kitchen sink.

“Is he for real right now, Friday? I’m not his fucking maid,” Tony snarls, sweeping the used plate and fork into the sink along with the coffee mug. “He can learn to clean up after his goddamn self. Tell him that for me please, Fry.”

“Yes, boss,” Friday responds primly.

Tony’s just finished loading the dishes into the dishwasher (he doesn’t even have to wash them, they have a fucking dishwasher, how hard can it be?) when Friday speaks again.

“He says he didn’t ask you to clean anything, and that he will, I quote: “Clean the whole fucking kitchen later, Jesus Tony.””

Tony nearly growls, slamming the dishwasher door closed and drying his hands on the hand towel next to the sink before stomping out of the kitchen.

***

“How many times—“

Tony cuts him off. “Yay, you’re here,” he says, voice brittle and eyes flashing, as Steve comes storming into the lab.

Steve rolls his eyes heavenward as if asking for patience. “Tony,” he says, all Captain America. Seems to be the way of things lately. “You do realize that everything you say or do as Tony Stark reflects on this team.” It’s not a question.

Tony grits his teeth, looks back down at his worktop. He’s soldering very tiny bits of electronics together and Steve fucking Rogers is not going to make him lose his concentration over a conversation they’ve had a hundred times.

“Tony Stark has a lot of other things to worry about right now, Captain,” Tony bites off.

“More important than the team?” Steve asks, 100% righteous, and Tony is 100% done. That was quick. Must be a new record.

He turns off the soldering iron and sets it down firmly in it’s cradle before ripping his gloves off and glaring at Steve. Steve’s got his arms crossed across his chest, feet shoulder width apart, jaw tight, and Tony thinks he looks ready for a fight.

“As a matter of fact, yes, more important than this team. Because without Stark Industries, there would be no money to fund the fucking team. Without Tony Stark out there giving the press what they want to hear, there is no support for this team. Without me playing peacekeeper between you all and the fucking US government there IS NO TEAM, Steve. What more do you want from me?”

He’s yelling by the end of it and Steve barely twitches, eyes still hard.

“You could run it by me, Tony. Maybe discuss things with me before you decide you know what’s best for all of us.” Tony can hear the accusation in there, the implication that he’s decided what’s best for the team before and it didn’t work out so well, did it.

“Don’t give me that shit, Steve,” Tony says angrily, slamming his palms down on the desktop, bits of million dollar electronics rattling dangerously. “I did what was necessary. I kept the team safe, like I’ve been doing for months now, no thanks to you.”

“Safe.” Steve says, voice flat, and there’s so much hidden underneath those words Tony wants to scream.

“Get out,” he says instead. Steve’s jaw ticks but he doesn’t move. He opens his mouth but Tony doesn’t care what he has to say. “OUT, Steve.” Friday slides open the glass door behind him, and Steve turns without another word and walks out.

Tony doesn’t throw the circuit board at the wall but it’s a near thing.

***

“Tell Steve I won’t be home tonight. Working late.”

“He’s not at the compound currently, but I will forward the message to his phone.”

***

Cool sheets. Cooler pillow.

Tony turns his back on it all and closes his eyes.

***

“Steve, man, what’s up with you lately?”

Steve knows Sam means well, but it’s just not something he wants to talk about. He shakes his head and continues punching the heavy bag.

Sam walks up behind the bag to hold it in place, knowing Steve will have to pull his punches so he doesn’t hurt the other man. Steve snorts, throws a few weak punches, then gives up, moving over the bench to start pulling off his wraps. Sam walks over and picks the spot directly next to him.

He doesn't say anything, but Steve can feel his stare. He sighs, drops his hands between his knees, wraps hanging half-undone. He drops his chin to his chest and sighs again.

“Is it Tony?” Sam asks cautiously.

Another deep breath and Steve picks his head up and gets back to work on the wraps. He swallows once, then forces the words out. “Yes. It’s just — It’s rough right now. That’s all.” 

Sam grips his shoulder firmly and Steve’s eyes burn. He blinks furiously.

“Love sucks sometimes.”

Steve nods, throat too tight to speak.

***

“It’s not about not trusting you, Tony! It’s about what’s best for the team, and how—“

“How you don’t trust me to make the right decision! It’s like the Accords, you won’t open your eyes and see that there’s more than one way to do things here, it’s not all black and white, it’s not you versus me here—“

“It is, Tony, because you make it that way! You act like you know what’s best for the team without anyone’s input. Teams don’t work that way. That’s how Ultron happened, Tony, it’s how the Accords got so out of control, because you went behind our backs and helped _write_ them before you even told us they existed!”

“Seriously? That was damage control from the shit you all pulled in Nigeria, from Sokovia and Wakanda and DC and New York. I was the only thing between the team and imprisonment, Steve!”

“It’s not up to you to decide how to handle the fallout. We’re a team during the battles, and we should be a team after them.”

“You’re right, next time I’ll just let them cart you all off to jail. No skin off my back.”   
“You’re not even listening—“

“No, Steve. YOU’RE not listening. You want to preach about working together and team decision making and no secrets? You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

“Fuck you, Tony.”

“Yeah. Truth hurts, Cap.”

***

“Hey, Steve!”

He turns, moves out of the way of the locker room door and readjusts the duffle over his shoulder.

It’s Sharon Carter, striding confidently down the hallway toward him, face open and smiling.

“Hey Sharon,” he greets her, hoping he sounds friendly enough. Things between them haven't been strained, exactly, since Germany, but they haven’t been as genial lately either, which Steve blames himself for. He probably shouldn’t have kissed her in the heat of the moment, dealing with the fallout with Tony and his grief over Peggy’s death. Not exactly the best time to start something up with a co-worker.

“How are you?” She asks politely, coming to a stop in front of him.

He smiles, shrugs. “Doing alright. Busy. Yourself?”

She grins. “Great, actually. Some of us are going out for drinks in about half an hour, would you maybe want to join us? Just a group of friends, nothing special, no hidden agendas,” she adds hurriedly, when Steve opens his mouth to decline.

He thinks about it. Thinks about going home, to Tony’s angry silence, cold sheets and empty beds. 

“Sure. Where’re we going?”

***

If he were any other man he’d be drunk, but he’s a supersoldier, so of course he’s stone-cold sober when he gets back to the compound at one in the morning. He drops his gear off in their bedroom, leaving it at the foot of the bed where Tony’s sure to stub his toe on it and curse at Steve to stop leaving his shit around all the time.

He asks Friday where Tony is and she tells him he’s in the lab, which is no surprise. He heads to the kitchen for a drink of water. He’s alone, the rest of the team already in their rooms, hopefully sleeping before training tomorrow morning. He leans back against the counter, glass of water in hand, and just breathes.

He gives himself five minutes, then heads down to the lab.

Tony’s back is to the door but Steve has no doubt that Friday told him he was coming down. The music drops off as he enters the room in preparation for a conversation. He can see Tony tense up as it does and his heart twists painfully in his chest.

_When did we become this?_

“What did I do this time, Steve? I haven’t even been out of the lab since this morning, but I’m sure you can find something to lecture me about.”

Tony’s voice is an ugly sneer and Steve feels frustration flare up, hot and demanding. As he gets closer he sees Tony’s hands are shaking.  
 Tony gets cruel when he’s angry. He gets sharp and petty and very, very calculating, but he never lets that anger consume him physically. He becomes still and dangerous, a poised weapon ready to strike.

Tony shakes when he’s upset, or scared.

The realization washes like cold water over Steve, drowning his frustration with little effort. Sadness and regret and grief swirl in his gut, sadness at the state of their relationship, regret over things he should have done better. And grief, because now Steve knows the truth. And so does Tony. Maybe Tony always has. Maybe he just didn’t want to let go.

“Tony.” His voice is rough with emotions. Tony must hear it because he stills, gently placing his tools down on the workbench.

He turns and his eyes are so big and dark and knowing Steve wants to be mad, wants to scream at him, _Why didn’t you tell me this was over? Why didn’t you say something?_ He doesn’t say anything, but he can see the answer in those eyes anyway. _I didn’t want to lose you._

His heart is breaking into a thousand sharp pieces and he wants to pretend nothing’s happened, but that’s not him. Tony’s done enough of that for both of them, trying to hold the pieces of them together when they so clearly don’t fit together anymore.

Steve will do what needs to be done.

He opens his arms.

***

It’s the culmination of all those lonely nights, the painful fights and angry words and resentful silences all coming to fruition. He’s seen it coming for a long time. That doesn’t make it any easier.

He stumbles forward a step before he rights himself, pulling his shoulders up and chin out. He can have a little dignity, even if his eyesight is starting to blur.

He makes it to Steve without collapsing, which he counts as a win. He wraps his arms tightly around Steve’s neck and closes his eyes, tucking his face into the hollow between neck and shoulder that he used to think was made for him. Steve’s arms come around him, enveloping him in warmth, and he’s missed this so much. He can’t even remember the last time Steve held him like this. It must have been months ago.

He breathes deep, taking in the scent of mint and leather and musk, committing it to memory.

He feels Steve bury his face in Tony’s hair, feels him inhale, and wonders if he is doing the same thing.

A little sob hiccups out of Tony without warning and Steve’s arms tighten around him, rocking him slightly.

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” he hears Steve whisper hoarsely.

He manages not to break down, just barely, but he can feel Steve’s shirt beneath his face beginning to dampen with his tears. His fists clench in Steve’s shirt and he can’t be bothered to let go.

“I love you,” Steve says, almost pleads.

Tony nods into his shirt, unable to speak, hoping Steve understands. _I love you, too, I love you so much._

Sometimes love isn't enough.

“We don't make each other happy anymore, Tony. I never wanted that. I want you to be happy,” Steve is saying, voice tripping and breaking dangerously over the words. 

Tony pulls back to look at his face, blotchy and red and covered in tear tracks. He unclenches his fists and reaches up to cup Steve’s cheeks gently between his hands, thumbs brushing away wetness.

“Shh,” he whispers. Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he tilts forward to lean his forehead against Tony’s. They are still swaying just the tiniest bit, no sound but their snuffling breaths, and it’s like a sad, sweet dance.

Tony can’t say how long they stay like that. Long enough for the tears to stop. Long enough that he worries every moment will be the last, will be the moment Steve pulls away from him forever.

Steve opens his eyes slowly, eyelashes clumped together. Tony gives him a sad little smile before he closes the distance and presses their lips together. It’s salty and wet, and his heart jumps into his throat at the same time his stomach drops to his knees. _This is it,_ he thinks. He pushes away the thought and just feels, feels Steve’s lips and tongue and heat and love. He gives all of his love in return.

They pull away slowly, lips swollen and eyes red-rimmed.

Steve tries to smile and fails, eyes welling up, and Tony loves him for it. He releases Tony and Tony wants to scream _No, don’t go, please,_ but he stays silent, and Steve turns toward the door, moving like the 90 year old he is.

“I love you, too,” Tony says quietly. Steve stops for a moment, breath hitching painfully, and nods. And then he’s gone.

***

Tony wakes up to a bed as empty as his heart. He stares at the ceiling, feeling that familiar ache in his chest, except this time it’s not from the arc reactor.

He rolls to look at the bare pillow and instead sees a note.

_Tony,_

_I love you._

_I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner. I’m so sorry we couldn’t work this out. You will always have a special place in my heart. You gave me a home._

_I know that we might need time to figure things out, but I want you to know I’m not going anywhere. You were my best friend first and that will never change._

_I will always be here if you need me._

_Love,_

_Steve_


End file.
